


Don't Hold Back

by GwendolynGrace



Category: The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Between Seasons/Series, Christmas, Friendship, Gen, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Sexism, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 17:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16958187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolynGrace/pseuds/GwendolynGrace
Summary: What better place for a heart-to-heart than a road trip? Susie and Midge share some truths between D.C. and Philly.





	Don't Hold Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kapina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kapina/gifts).



"Hey, before I forget: What are your plans?" Miriam asked.

"My plans? We've been over this itinerary so many times--"

"No, not for the road trip. For the holidays. For Christmas. What are you doing?"

"What am I doing? Nothing. I will be doing nothing on Christmas." Susie tossed her spent cigarette out the window.

"What? No. You can't do nothing. You should come over. We'll get Chinese."

"That is possibly the most cliched thing you've ever said. And I've heard your line about the matzo ball soup. Jews getting Chinese on Christmas? No, thanks." She pressed the gas pedal and was pleasantly surprised that the car moved forward.

"You said you didn't have plans," Midge cajoled.

"I did not. I said I would not be doing anything. That is my plan. To do nothing." She smoothed her hands outward over the steering wheel, like she was smoothing out the leather. But then she had to grip immediately to keep the car from swerving.

"But is that what you want to be doing? Come on, no one should be alone on Christmas. Come on, it'll be fun."

"By what definition?"

"Eh, we'll get Chinese, we'll play cards or something. Why not?"

"Well, for one thing, your mother hates me."

Midge shook her head to insist otherwise. "Mama? She doesn't even know you."

"She's still confused about my plumber act. And Abe is not my biggest fan, either."

"Oh, no one pays much attention to Papa, he hates everything."

"Great, so it'll be even more awkward than Christmas with my horrible family. No dice, sister. The answer is no."

"Well. If you change your mind, the door is open."

"Fine. I'll remember that. Now, can we move on?"

"Sure," Miriam allowed.

Susie drove for a while, concentrating on the road, until it opened up and she could hear herself thinking. She glanced over at Miriam, who had been strangely silent while they'd made it onto the highway. "So...Benjamin, huh?" Susie said at last, fighting the gear shift to put the car in third. "When did that start?"

"Oh. Up at Steiner's. Well, technically, not until we left Steiner's. He drove me back to New York the day I--had to come back."

"The day you ditched me up inn the Catskills? That day? The day you were so hot to get back to B. Altman that you couldn't tell your manager you were skipping out? That day?"

"Uh. Yes."

"What happened to 'We have to work on our communication'?"

"Sorry. I'm sorry. It was--last minute. And I had to meet him before he left the resort."

"But you had time on the drive to make a new friend," Susie grumbled. She eased the car's speed up, as they were on the highway and being passed so often they might as well have been in a buggy.

"It wasn't like that, honest," Miriam answered. "For your information, he was actually pretty rude the first time I met him. I wasn't expecting things to go well. I'm not even sure why I'm justifying myself to you."

"Because, I told you before, this is not a good time for a relationship."

"Is any time going to be a good time?"

"Yes, sure. Well, maybe. Once we get established a little, and then you get steady work and more shows and--well, no. That's not a great time for a new beau, either. So...no. Not really."

Miriam sighed and leaned back against the seat. "That's just what Declan Howell said, more or less."

"Declan who?"

"Howell. Declan Howell."

"Who the fuck is--"

"He's an artist. Benjamin's sort of an art collector, and he thinks very highly of him. And we ran into him at a bar, this artists' hangout--and...it's a long story, but--"

"We've got 50 miles to Philly, we got time," Susie commented.

"Well, it doesn't matter. The point is, we went to his studio, and I convinced him to let Benjamin buy something from him."

"You slept with him for a painting?"

"No, I did not sleep with him, for God's sake. I used my wiles."

"For a gig, you won't use your wiles, but for your boyfriend's art collection--"

"Hey, no judging. It was different. The thing is, while I was there, he showed me something he'd done and...couldn't part with. It was...magical. Amazing. I never thought art could say as much as this piece. Which, I'm supposed to deny ever seeing, by the way, so it's off-limits for the act. But anyway, we stood there and...viewed his painting and--and he said that to create a work of genius is to be alone--to give up part of oneself into the work." She paused, and when Susie glanced over, she was surprised to see Miriam's eyes were wet. Miriam dug in her purse for a handkerchief, as she continued through sniffles. "Sorry. Sorry. I don't mean to sound sappy. And I don't know why I'm crying. I just--I think he was telling me that to be the best is to be lonely. And you're saying the same thing."

"Not necessarily," Susie hedged. "Besides, remember that the great artists are all tortured. Like the guy who cut off his own ear."

"Van Gogh, and that's not why he did it," Miriam said. Trust Miriam to know. "Now musicians...Tchaikovsky, he was tortured. But I get your point. I just always thought that only applied to serious art. Music, art, literature. You're saying it's true about comedy, too, and I'm not sure I agree."

"Comedy is suffering turned into common, shared misery," Susie pronounced. "Look. I'm not saying you can't be with anyone. I suppose I just don't want you to give this up when we're finally getting started."

"Benjamin's not going to make me give up," Miriam declared.

"Sure," Susie said, not bothering to hide her skepticism. 

"No, really. He knows, about the comedy. When we were in New York this summer, I took him to see Lenny. We went to the Stage Deli and I told him. He said he wanted to go out again and I just--told him I'm a comedienne. Just like that. He didn't run away. And anyway, he has his own career, he's not the type to care if I have one, too."

"Maybe not now," Susie answered. She knew she should keep her fucking mouth shut, but she couldn't help it. "What about later? Is he gonna expect you to become the little woman at some point?"

"That's...insanely premature," Miriam claimed. 

"Is it?" Susie fired back. She changed lanes to let a faster car pass them, despairing that her mother's piece of shit would ever make it over 50 miles per hour. "So. You sleeping with him?"

"That's none of your business!" Midge said.

"Well. You slept with your husband."

"That was different. He was my husband. And I thought we were getting back together."

"Yeah, how'd that work out?"

"It's different. After Joel saw me at the Gaslight, he said he couldn't be the guy I talked about on the stage. But that doesn't mean he's not supportive. He understands what I want to do."

"He just cand stand by while you do it."

"Why have you always hated him?"

"I don't."

"You do. Even back when we would bring brisket to get him a good slot."

"Back when you had to bribe Baz, you mean, because your husband stank so bad?"

"Well, yes. But you were always particularly disdainful. And that made some sense after I figured out that he'd stolen his routine from--"

"Bob Newhart," Susie said at the same time Midge did. "Yeah. But that's not even all that unusual. What was unusual was that you were always funnier than he is. You still are. You're fucking talented, woman. And not to mention you're about the freshest, most interesting voice to come along in comedy in...in a long time. Maybe ever." She sighed. "I hate telling you this so soon in your career because I don't want your head to swell up bigger than your luggage. But get this straight, Miriam: men are going to be intimidated by you. They're going to be scared of you. Good. Let'em be. Don't bend. That includes Joel, and that includes this Benjamin."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, men will want to package you up in the same boxes you want to escape from. Not just agents and other comics, but the men in your life, too. Your problem is that your mother conditioned you since you were born to shape yourself to please a man. Men. That's why you dress like you do, why you put in so much time on your hair and makeup and such. And I'm not _judging_ that--it's great you know how to do that, because God knows, I don't. I wouldn't have the first idea how to tell you to make yourself presentable for an audience. But that same conditioning is what would push you to change your stage persona to please the men in this business. And there are way more of them than us, I can tell you that. You're a voice of and for women. That's what I find fascinating. And Joel may support your choices, but you'll notice he's not going to stand by your side while you pursue them."

"Wow." Miriam lit a cigarette.

"Jesus, gimme one of those while you're at it," Susie requested. Joel's tirade on the phone was probably making her harsher than usual, but she was pissed off that they kept having to cover this same ground.

Miriam fished out a second cigarette, lit it, and handed it over. "You're being horribly unfair to Benjamin. And to Joel."

"Oh, am I?" Susie fired back. "Are you back together with him?"

"No," Midge admitted.

"That's what I thought. He left you the night you showed up at the Gaslight, and he left again when he saw your act. He's good at leaving. We should keep it like that."

Miriam sniffed again, but this time, she wasn't tearful. Susie sighed. "Miriam, let it go. It's not his fault; I'm not saying the man should die in a fire. I'm saying this life you want, you can't do it with a man trying to call the shots. Any man. Even if this Benjamin of yours is fucking perfectly self-confident. What makes you think he's going to be any different when it comes to your place in his future?"

"Because, like I said, I was already doing this when I met him, and he already knows. It's not like I'm going to tell stories about the time he left me for his secretary."

"No, but eventually, you'll tell stories about something he did. And then he'll get his fragile little ego all bruised and bent, and you'll have a choice to make. The comedy, or the relationship."

"I just can't believe you'd think all that without ever having met him."

"I don't have to meet him, Miriam. He's a man."

For once, Midge had no answer. Susie let the silence fill the space between them. The car puttered along at its measley pace, making enough noise to rattle their teeth and shake the ashes from their cigarettes. Long minutes passed. Around the time they started to see road signs for the Baltimore harbor, Midge drew breath to speak again.

"Hey, can I ask you something? You keep saying you've had a plan for a long time. So, it's not for me, specifically, right? I'm just the one that came along. But...why? Why not just start over with someone else after I screwed over Sophie Lennon?"

Susie could barely form an answer. Why wouldn't she have stuck with Midge? There was something so....compelling about her mind. Susie could tell someone why she was funny, sure, but she had a harder time explaining why she thought Miriam's thoughts were important. Relevant. Things you weren't supposed to say about comedians, let alone comediennes. Sometimes, Miriam spoke in words and phrases that Susie could barely understand--her life experience was just so _different_. And it wasn't the Jewish thing. Live in New York long enough--in Susie's case, all her life--and you picked up the basics of all that Yiddish mishegoss. It was the breezy, breathless way Miriam threw around assurances like, "Mama will take care of the kids," or mentioned the trappings of her life like everyone knew what it was like to arrange baby showers or find the perfect little hat or to get one's hair dressed every week. Christ, Susie couldn't remember the last time she'd filed her nails, let alone gone to a trunk show. What the hell was a trunk show, anyway?

But when Miriam talked about the details of her life--the _way_ she talked about the details--was equally fascinating and hilarious. She tossed out the one-liner commentary with the precision of a surgeon. It was like she had one foot in her life, and the other outside looking at it, simultaneously living and editorializing her experience. And her observations were smart. They were sassy, they were brutally honest. It was revelatory, in every sense of the word. She was fearless, feisty, and fucking funny.

"Why are you staring at me? Is there something on my face?"

"No," Susie muttered. "Gimme another cigarette." Once Midge had handed over the smoke, Susie took a long drag. As she let it out, she said, "You realize you have the potential to be bigger than Sophie fucking Lennon, right?"

Miriam absorbed the statement much like she took in any information about her career: with disbelief. "I hope you mean celebrity, because I'm not wearing a fat suit," she joked.

"I'm serious," Susie said. "I didn't stick with you because it was my lifelong dream to get kicked out of a house of Burlesque. I stuck with you because you have...a voice. I don't know what kind of perfect storm created your point of view but--it's not like anything else out there. It's new. It's unique. And it's something people want."

"Why are you saying this?"

"Because, Miriam, you have gotten skittish on me before. You've freaked out, and don't tell me that's not part of what happened that night Harry came to see you. You were freaking out, because you actually believed what that witch told you. So. I want you to promise me something. From here on out, you will not doubt your own voice. Don't be what anyone else tells you you have to be to get ahead. Except for me. If I tell you you need something, then you believe me. But don't run away from what makes you fascinating. Embrace what makes you yourself." She inhaled another puff. "The best comics are the ones who know and accept everything about themselves--the flaws as well as the good stuff. Miriam--Midge--you've got a lot of good stuff. And you have flaws. You can't make it in comedy without both."

Miriam said nothing for a long time. Once, she would have reached for her notebook, but now she just listened, focusing on the road. "Do you really think I can make it? Like, make it, make it?"

"I really do. But not if you let anything hold you back. Including some dumb man."

"You really hate men, don't you," Miriam muttered. "I mean, I knew you were--" she snapped her mouth shut.

"Knew I was what?" Susie growled dangerously.

"Well, I just...I mean...you certainly don't dress to attract men, so--"

"On second thought, hold back," Susie protested. 

"Hey, don't get upset, I don't mind," Midge continued more quickly, "I just meant--well, I figured--you aren't looking to get married, right?"

Susie rolled her eyes. "Not particularly, no," she admitted.

"And I--well, I know one or two...well, they were girls at my college--"

"Oh, good grief--look, Miriam. I can't take this, so I'm going to put us both out of my misery. I do not dress to attract men. I do not dress to repulse men, either. I simply do not think about men when I buy clothes, when I wear them, or really any time other than when they are in my face, fucking up the world. The less I have to think about men, the better. You may have noticed that they kinda suck."

Midge smiled. "Mostly they want us to suck, but okay. I see your point. But--you do like women, don't you?"

Susie rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. "Jesus Fuck, why are you asking me this shit?"

"Sorry. It's really none of my business. I just--I want you to know I...I accept you. And the thing is--I mean, what I find interesting is, I can't figure out why took a chance on me in the first place--and especially why you stuck with me through all this, if you weren't...attracted to me."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Susie complained. "Are you worried you're not attractive? Objectively, I think we can put that fear to bed. But I don't give a fuck about that. And I'm not jealous of your relationships--not like that. I need you. I sure as hell was never gonna dig myself out of that Harry Drake-sized hole without your fucking talent. We're a team, remember?"

"Okay. I'm sorry I insulted you."

"I'm not insulted because you think I'm a dyke. I'm insulted because you think I'd jeopardize our future with a dick move like making a pass at you. And by the way, not all homosexuals are sex-crazed, you know. I mean, not that I'm--I just mean, in my experience, it's the men who mash on women who can't keep their hands to themselves. For fuck's sake. I'm a professional. Even if I did think you were the sexiest thing on legs, I wouldn't make a pass at someone I represent. Clear?"

"Clear. I'm sorry I insulted your integrity."

"Right." 

"But you should still come for Christmas."

"Oh, fuck me."

"I thought you said that was off-limits."

"...And we're back to comedy," Susie bantered.

"Can't beat 'em, join 'em. Is that our exit?"

"Yep." Susie down-shifted to get off the highway. "Maybe it's time we be a little more professional, and less personal," she suggested.

"On a road trip together, that's a great time to be less personal," Miriam quipped.

"Oh, shut up. Get out the map; we'll need it for the motel."

Midge pulled the map out of the glove box. "Aye, aye, Captain," she said pleasantly, unfolding it across her lap.

* * *

Last year, Midge would have given anything to be selected to help decorate the windows at B. Altman. She adored the city at Christmastime, when it came alive with decorations. Even now, strings of lights hung off the street poles and wreaths adorned shop doors. Rockefeller Center's tree had been festooned with enormous gold balls and enormous garlands were draped over the boughs. As the shadows lengthened earlier and earlier, the city seemed to beat back the long night with forcible cheer. Even the little piles of snow that got scooped onto the sidewalks, or that stuck to the patches of grass, only served to add a frosty patina to the town, like a picture postcard. And of course, the parade of window displays at Macy's, Gimbel's, Bonwit-Teller…and all the boutique shops as well. Walking along Fifth Avenue was like passing a thousand dioramas of commercial bliss. Midge loved every little scrap of tinsel and every red-lacquered nutcracker. 

But so much had changed in just the last three weeks. Now, she was handing in her notice, about to tour with Shy Baldwin. In fact, she was handing in her notice on a lot of things. Where a week ago, she had enthusiastically told Benjamin "Yes," tonight, she knew, she had to tell him "No."

It wasn't just the tour, the things Declin Howell had said, or Susie's pronunciations about how hard this stage of a career was on a relationship. It was all of those things, but it was also her last night with Joel. If she stayed with Benjamin, she would have to tell him eventually. And if she told him, she felt certain he would rescind his proposal. But if she told him she was going on tour, she could break the engagement without having to lie about her headlong return to familiar territory.

She was supposed to meet Benjamin for drinks, but instead, she found herself heading straight for the Gaslight. It was a different kind of familiar territory. Susie was there, working for a change, trying to train a new attendant and visibly, audibly getting frustrated.

"You punch in the amount, then hit the green button. You don't crank down until the end of the night. Got it?"

"Right to left or--"

"Punch in each number in the column, left to right. Okay?" Susie ordered angrily. "Oh, hey, Miriam! I thought you were, uh, off tonight." She wiggled her eyebrows, but even with the leer, she still sounded pissed off.

"I am," Midge said. "I have to meet Benjamin." She leaned over the counter. "Can we talk?"

Susie's eyes widened like she was about to explode, but she nodded and pointed to one of the back tables. A guitar duo was playing, providing a folksy backdrop to Miriam's confession.

"What's wrong?" Susie asked suspiciously.

"I...don't think I'd even told you, I got engaged to Benjamin."

"You didn't have to, Miriam, that rock on your finger says it all."

"Well, with this tour…."

"So, you'll see if you can make it long-distance," Susie assured her.

"No, that's not what I--I went to see Joel." Fighting tears, Midge related how she had gone to the studio to support Lenny. How she had come to the realization that what everyone was telling her was, sadly, entirely true. How she had rushed back into Joel's arms--gone there for the express purpose of being with him--and how that had also forced her to see that she did not have the same feeling of safety with Benjamin. She loved him, but she did not feel comforted by him.

"Well...you had children with Joel. You were with him for years. You've known Benjamin, what, three months?"

"Five."

"Five," Susie said, dragging the word out in that nasal drone of hers. "Excuse me. It's those extra two months that make all the difference."

Midge sniffed. Two tears fell and stained her dress. "Shit, this is crepe!" she moaned, and suddenly, she was sobbing. "Fuck. Fuck," she repeated, pulling herself together. "Sorry."

"Yeah get it under control, will ya, people are lookin'."

Jackie breezed by the table. "What's a matter, Midge? Susie, what'd you do?"

"Nothing. Fuck off."

Midge bowed her head into her hands. She felt a small circle of warmth on her back: Susie's hand. 

"It's...not the end of the world, Miriam," Susie said quietly, more sincerely, perhaps, than Midge had ever heard her. "So you slept with Joel again. He was your husband."

"But I'm with Benjamin now," Midge wailed. "Or...I am about to be _not_ with Benjamin--" she sobbed again.

"Okay, Midge. I'm gonna say something and I want you to listen because I do not say this lightly. Dr. Benjamin may be more understanding than you think. And look, I was prepared to hate him, but…."

Midge sat up. Susie withdrew her hand. "You like him?" 

"Like's a strong word," said Susie, with a pained expression as if admitting a preference was akin to getting gas. "I just...you know how I said most guys will want to put you back in a box? I don't think he's most guys. I watched him when he saw you here at the Gaslight. He's dazzled."

"But that's a problem in itself, isn't it," Midge reasoned, speeding up her speech to catch up with the thoughts that were now buzzing in her head. "Because he thinks I'm this, amazing person, he's got me up on some kind of pedestal. So, when he finds out I was with Joel--"

"Why's he gotta find that out?"

"Susie! I can't not tell him, not if I try to stay with him. So, I use the tour as the excuse and--"

"Miriam," Susie said cajolingly. She put her hands on her shoulders. "Midge. Breathe."

Midge inhaled, then blew out through pursed lips to steady herself.

"I'm no expert on this marriage stuff," Susie said unnecessarily, "but I'm pretty sure that trust is part of it. Just talk to Benjamin. Tell him where your head's at. Tell him about the tour. Tell him what you want. If he's not on board, that's the reason it's not going to work out. Now, as far as Joel, my advice is, you tell Benjamin that you freaked out. That it was a goodbye fuck. If he gets it, then you're golden. And if he doesn't, well, you're no worse off. But don't make his decision for him."

"Wow," Midge said, blinking at Susie. "That's...actually really good advice."

"Don't look so shocked," Susie grumbled. "You told me I need to be more concerned with the personal. This is your love life. It's about as personal as it gets. So...give it a shot."

"Thanks, Susie," Midge choked out, patting her eyes and cheeks to remove the tear. She dug through her purse for a handkerchief, blotting away mascara and makeup that had run from her outburst. "Hey. There's one other good thing about going on tour," she pointed out.

"What's that?"

"We'll be together at Christmas," Midge crowed. She knew Susie would come around eventually. After all, Christmas was a time for family.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies if this is a little rough, but with Season 2 dropping so close to the deadline, I had to completely revise my drafts (and opinions) to adjust. Hope you enjoy anyway.
> 
> Also, I'm sorry I couldn't work them in, but thank you (I think?) for introducing me to the "Long, Long Man"!


End file.
